


THE BRAINS VS BEAUTY AFFAIR

by blktauna



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blktauna/pseuds/blktauna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Crane and his sidekick are actually two other lads I write about but with different names.</p></blockquote>





	THE BRAINS VS BEAUTY AFFAIR

"No, I'm sorry... I'm not available," Illya Kuryakin scowled into the phone. "No, it's impossible... No... Goodbye." He slammed the receiver down and glared at it.   
"Was that Sylvia again?"   
Illya sighed and ran his fingers through his too long, blond hair. He looked over at his partner, Napoleon Solo, and sighed again. "No, it was her roommate. She wants to "do me' in ceramic."   
"Of course she does. How many does this make?" Napoleon chortled.   
"Male or female?"   
"Oh really? How worried should I be, my dear?"   
Napoleon laughed at the venomous noise that issued from Illya's throat. He sat on his partner's desk and surreptitiously kissed the top of his head.   
"Illya my love, how can they help but be moved by your exquisite beauty?"   
The blond merely groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "Napoleon, I am not beautiful. I don't want to be sculpted, painted, carved or anything else."   
"Illya, you are one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. That's why those Thrush heavies keep kidnapping you. They want you all for themselves."   
"I thought they wanted to get at you."   
"They're just killing two birds with one stone."   
  
*****   
  
Section Leader Crane sat at his desk reading the report for the pop art affair. He cringed at the plan behind it. Just as well the fool failed. People hiccoughing to death. "A waste of good brains that is."   
Crane looked at the photographs of the U.N.C.L.E. agents responsible for the failure. Crane flipped the first picture over and read the information on the back.   
"Napoleon Solo. So this is the famous Solo. Hmmm."   
He made a disrespectful noise and dropped the photo back into the folder. The next picture showed a blond with thick-rimmed glasses. He flipped it over to see the name of the man.   
"Illya Kuryakin."   
He turned it back to gaze further on the face captured in black and white. This one looked bright. Then Crane remembered that he was the scientist of the pair. This fellow would be a good addition to his collection.   
"Otto!" he shouted for his lead henchman.   
  
*****   
  
Alexander Waverly sat in state behind his enormous circular desk. He scowled slightly as he dug through his humidor of pipe tobacco.   
"Gentlemen, we have received word that Thrush has a new base in Greenwich Village where they are testing some kind of mind control formula. I want you to put a stop to it."   
"I imagine the failures are less noticeable there," sniped Illya.   
"Quite, Mr. Kuryakin."   
Napoleon smirked. Illya fidgeted in the chair.   
"Mr. Kuryakin, you will be an artist's model. I have been told that you are quite the sought after subject. I'm sure you can use those contacts effectively. You, Mr. Solo, will investigate the victims in the hopes of finding out their identities."   
Illya fumed as Waverly tossed a manila folder towards Napoleon.   
"Here's the information we've gathered so far. Eight people were found wandering the streets muttering to themselves."   
Illya snorted. Napoleon kicked him in the shins.   
"Ah, sir. I don't see how that would cause any alarm."   
"Well, Mr. Solo, when someone wanders the streets of New York devoid of any self-knowledge, it is a bit unusual."   
"Ah, so Thrush is trying to take ordinary people and wipe them clean, presumably to then program them with new, Thrush-chosen personalities."   
"Possibly. So far we only have evidence of the first portion of the process. I want you two to get in there and shut them down."   
Napoleon looked across the table and smiled at a scowling Illya.   
"I look forward to seeing you model, Illya."   
  
*****   
  
"Otto!"   
One of Crane's harried minions appeared in front of his desk. He rested a sour eye on Otto's thick form, again disgusted at the quality of lower level Thrush operatives.   
"Show this picture around the Village and see if he's still hanging about. I want to know immediately if you find him."   
He tossed the picture across the desk. Otto picked it up carefully and squinted at it. "Oh, the blond guy. Yes sir, I'll get the boys onto it."   
Crane's icy green eyes slitted as he scowled at the departing thug. He despaired of ever getting any good help.   
  
*****   
  
"Oh c'mon, Illya. This place is a gas."   
"You mean it smells like gas." His nose wrinkled at the slightly methane odor that permeated the dark club. It smelled vaguely like the monkey house in the zoo.   
Sylvia dragged the reluctant blond over to a table tucked away in the back. She practically shoved him into the booth and plastered herself against his side.   
"See, only the coolest people are here!"   
Illya's eyes swept over the crowd. Most of the occupants were familiar from his last foray into the Golden Spike. A notable exception was the Thrush espresso operator, who had been replaced by a mop-haired person of indeterminate gender. No one looked any more mindless than usual. His attention was drawn back to Sylvia when her hands shifted from his arm and attempted to gain a grip on his thigh. He disentangled himself without delicacy.   
"Were any of the people we found also patrons of this club?"   
The petite blonde pouted at his evasion into business. She did not let that sidetrack her for long. "You should get lots of offers from artists tonight. I let everyone know you changed your mind and would pose."   
Illya evaded her grasp and managed to put himself at the other end of the booth. "Fabulous," he deadpanned.   
As if on cue, several bohemian-looking young people clustered around the booth. There was a tussle to see who would get in. A plump brunette and a freckled young man muscled their way into the booth, to practically sit on top of Illya. He sighed audibly.   
"Wow, you're as cute as Sylvia said. Can I paint you?"   
A hubbub ensued as the crowd around Illya argued over who would get him, where they would go, and in what order all this would occur. A wary, rat-like man detached himself from the crowd and slipped into the shadows. He squinted through the gloom at the mimeoed picture he had pulled from his pocket. The blond in the booth looked very much like the man Otto wanted. He quickly ducked into the back room to make a call. Illya's sharp eyes picked out the movement and he smiled, unfortunately giving encouragement to a poker-thin redhead whose hands had insinuated themselves under his black turtleneck.   
  
*****   
  
"Mr. Crane, sir..."   
Crane scowled as Otto scurried into his lair. His pale skin was flushed, as if he had run a great distance. Crane sighed and wrinkled his nose. "What?"   
"Sir, the blond, Kuryakin, has been spotted. I sent in a pick up team."   
Crane considered the possibilities and frowned. He grimaced at Otto unhappily. "You go. The idiots you sent will foul it up. Bring him to the lab when you have him."   
Otto snapped to attention. He beamed at his boss, then trotted off. Crane shook his head.   
  
*****   
  
Napoleon slouched in his lounge chair, puzzling over the files in his lap. Something was not clicking with this case. Careful ferreting had finally turned up the identities of the Thrush victims. They had not been the regular residents of the Village; indeed one of them had turned out to be a missing professor of mathematics from Columbia University. All of them had once been very smart people. Talking to one of them now was like talking to an infant. It seemed like they had been drained of their intelligence... Suddenly everything fell into place.   
"Good grief... we're on the wrong track!"   
Napoleon rummaged for his communicator and quickly put a call in to Mr. Waverly.   
  
*****   
  
A large man with four assistants in loud shirts stopped in front of Illya's booth. "Hello there. Why don't you let me take you away from all of this?"   
Illya ignored the trite pick-up line, as it was obvious the goon in front of him was the only person in the building who was not actually trying to con him into sex. The man's indigo eyes restlessly surveyed everything in the room except Illya. He made a small gesture and his four helpers began to dig their way through the human morass towards the blond.   
"Hey Otto, you creep! We were here first!"   
Sylvia's voice cut through the noise of the bar like a foghorn. Otto spared her a raised eyebrow and motioned again. Illya found himself surrounded.   
"Shall we?"   
Otto's voice was pleasant, but Illya knew that he had found his Thrush agent. Illya smiled angelically. This must be his lucky day. Otto motioned Illya forward. They swiftly made their way from the sea of grabby artists towards the back door.   
"You must be from Thrush." Illya hated stating the obvious, but felt it might just be necessary in this case.   
"Got it in one," said Otto, as his fist connected with Illya's jaw.   
  
*****   
  
"Yes sir, the victims were all specialists in physics and mathematics. The wiping of their memories wasn't a prelude to Thrush's plan, it was the aftermath."   
"Good work, Mr. Solo."   
"Didn't I hear about one of their scientists working some sort of artificial intelligence machine?"   
"That is correct, Mr. Solo."   
"It sounds like these people had their minds fed into that machine. It must have sucked them dry." Napoleon absently scratched at his head and made an unhappy face. He didn't relish the thought of having his mind erased by some Thrush device. An image of Illya with a blank stare flashed through his mind. He liked that even less.   
"I want you and Mr. Kuryakin to find it and destroy it. Immediately."   
Napoleon looked at the communicator and shook his head. Their boss had such a way of stating the obvious.   
"Yes sir, right away."   
  
*****   
  
Illya's eyes fluttered open to a blurry form. He had to blink several times before he could make out a wiry figure with close-cropped curls standing in front of him in a posture of annoyed impatience. As his vision cleared, Illya marked his captor's scowl and piercing green eyes.   
"Ahh. At last, Kuryakin is awake."   
The voice was clipped and irritated. Illya huffed unsubtly and waited for the tirade to begin. His scowl matched his captor's. "Fine, I'm awake. What do you want?"   
"Your brain."   
Illya's shock was evident. His captor's grin proved it.   
"So, you hadn't guessed. The best mind in U.N.C.L.E. hasn't figured out what we're up to? I'm enjoying this more and more."   
"Who are you?" Illya snapped.   
The trim figure loomed over Illya. He fingered the chains on Illya's wrists and smiled crookedly down at his confused prisoner. "My name's Crane. I suppose you want me to rant on about my master plan."   
"Well, that is the accepted practice," Illya said acidly.   
Crane set off Illya's internal alarms. He didn't like the hard edge of him. He was a bit different from the usual Thrush boss Ñ less maniacal and infinitely more dangerous because of it.   
"Hate to disappoint you, but I have better uses for my time. Otto!" he bellowed.   
The large goon from the Golden Spike appeared at Crane's command.   
"Hook him up. And let me know when it's done."   
Otto practically saluted as Crane stomped out of the room. He smiled benignly at Illya and pressed on a part of the wall. It slid back, revealing a rather large and menacing apparatus. He whistled tunelessly as he pulled a tangle of cables from the wall and began to set the electrodes in place on Illya's head.   
  
*****   
  
Napoleon had barely set down his communicator when his phone rang.   
"Hello?"   
"Napoleon? Is that you? This is Sylvia. Remember me?"   
"Yes, Sylvia. What can I do for you?"   
"Otto has Illya!"   
Napoleon gave her some credit. She didn't screech when she got excited. He'd have to thank her on behalf of his ears later.   
"Who's Otto?"   
"He's a big thug and he's got Illya!"   
"Where has he got Illya?" Napoleon felt a tightening along his nerves. He was not greatly fond of the combination of Illya and thugs... Especially if he wasn't there to enjoy it.   
"We were at the Golden Spike and he came in with some of his heavies and took Illya out the back. I called you right away."   
"Do you know where he might have taken Illya?"   
"Well... there's one place that I know of."   
  
*****   
  
"What are you hooking me up to?"   
Otto paused his cable sorting, and cocked his head at Illya. He looked somewhat unsure as to whether or not he should answer. Illya's face screwed up unpleasantly. He barked out his question again. Otto answered before he realized it.   
"Mr. Crane is going to feed your mind into his artificial intelligence computer."   
"What do you mean ÔArtificial Intelligence'?"   
"Dunno. That's what Mr. Crane calls it."   
Illya twisted around to get a better look at the apparatus. It looked disturbingly similar to parts of the Ultimate Computer he had blown up in Chacua. "I take it I'm not the first person to be attached to this thingÉ"   
"Yeah, yeah, and so why aren't I getting on with it?" Otto's lips twisted into a pout and he bent his head in concentration.   
"Actually, that wasn't my question."   
Otto's head popped back up. He looked amazed that Illya was actually addressing him. "Otto, am I the first person you've hooked up to this thing?"   
"No, sir."   
Illya sighed. Intelligence was obviously not Otto's strong point. "How many have you hooked up?"   
"Eight."   
Illya pursed his lips in thought. The numbers matched. "What does it do?"   
"It makes people like you less trouble!"   
Both men's attention shifted to the door. Crane stomped in and snapped a vicious look at Otto, who quickly bent back to his task. He then focused a look of general displeasure at Illya and flipped open the file folder he held.   
"With all your qualifications, Kuryakin, I'd have thought you'd be doing something more constructive than working for U.N.C.L.E."   
"As in working for Thrush?" Illya used his most annoying tone.   
"Will be soon enough, won't you?" Crane matched Illya's irritating tone and raised him a smirk. He snapped the folder shut and marched back out, Otto close on his heels.   
  
*****   
  
"This is where Otto usually hangs out."   
Napoleon met Sylvia in the alley next to a meat packing facility on Gansevoort Street.   
Napoleon's eyes flicked around the darkened streets. It was very quiet and still.   
"Rather menacing, isn't it? Listen, Sylvia, I appreciate your help, but I think it's time you left the rest to me."   
"No problem, Naps. I'm splitting before things get ugly. I remember the last time!"   
She practically ran down the street towards 8th Avenue. He smiled briefly at how cute she was when furtive, then his thoughts centered entirely on Illya. He ran through the typical Thrush security measures in his head and relaxed. So far this bunch of birds had shown themselves to be no more than medium-level operators. None of the really dangerous stuff would be in place, but Napoleon was still careful. He used the device the lab boys had made for him on the locks. They popped open easily. He quietly slipped into the gloom of the warehouse.   
  
*****   
  
Illya yanked at his chains and assessed his situation. He judged that, at the moment, things looked rather bleak. He was chained hand and foot to a moldering wall with various electrode lines running from his head into a panel set deep into the same wall. It was blinking and whirring at him in a decidedly threatening manner. He sighed heavily and scanned the room. One door, no windows, just him, the chains, the wires and the panel. He tried shaking the contacts loose, but Otto had done his job well and they didn't budge.   
"Shouldn't shake your head too hard, you might scramble something," sniped Crane.   
Illya glared at him, but did not reply. Crane fiddled with some of the controls and checked off items on his clipboard. Illya grew annoyed at his captor's indifference and began rattling his chains. Crane ignored him.   
"So where is the main body of your device?"   
Crane's gaze finally rested on him and Illya was pleased to note surprise on the man's face. "I doubt the thing would be as small as this wall panel," Illya said.   
Crane folded his arms together and glared. "Well finally, a sign of intelligent life. I was beginning to lose hope. Perhaps you really are smart enough to be added to our Artificial Intelligence."   
They stared at each other for several moments until Otto came in and they both glared at him. He froze in his tracks, eyes darting between the two men.   
"Well?!" they both demanded.   
"Security systems have gone off. Someone has entered the building," he blurted.   
Crane stormed out, dragging Otto with him. Illya relaxed against the wall and smiled.   
Napoleon had arrived.   
  
*****   
  
Napoleon eased down the dark corridor, Special in hand. So far he'd only had to dispatch two guards, but he was sure more were around. He checked several rooms, all empty. His nerves grew edgier the deeper he went into the warehouse. Something needed to happen soon. Finally he heard agitated voices in a nearby corridor. He quickly ducked into a dark room and ran smack into a large metallic box. He hunkered down behind it and waited. The voices came closer.   
"Otto, I want you to go to my office and check that it's secure. I'll check the machine and secure it myself."   
Napoleon heard the door bang open and one set of footsteps come in. There was a pause and the room was flooded with light. He hoped his luck held and that the overhead lights did not reveal his hiding place. Judging by the concern of the men in the hallway this was the room that housed the new Thrush engine of evil. The Solo luck had come through again! He quickly pulled one of Illya's special explosive devices from his pocket. He peeked around the corner and saw a slim, curly-headed man working furiously at a computer console. Seizing his opportunity, Napoleon clicked the magnetic bomb to the large box and slipped out, locking the door behind him.   
  
*****   
  
Illya was getting impatient. The sirens had started howling ten minutes ago and still there was no sign of Napoleon. Suddenly there was a compression wave and corresponding boom. Pink smoke filtered up from the crack under the door and bits of plaster fell from the ceiling. Illya chuckled to himself.   
  
*****   
  
"Funny how this Crane didn't care about your looks at all. He was only interested in that big brain of yours."   
"The only perceptive villain we've faced. Brains over beauty, eh Napoleon?"   
Napoleon chuckled. He traced a finger down the length of Illya's chains. "He was a fool. You know, you make a beautiful picture like this, my friend. I should capture the moment."   
"Napoleon!"   
Napoleon ran his tongue over the ridge of Illya's ear and flicked the jacket from his shoulder. Illya huffed.   
"Napoleon, if you do not let me out of these chainsÉ"   
Napoleon laughed. It softened Illya's scowl. "You won't be able to stop me from having my wicked way with you. Illya, my friend, if you think I'm giving up this advantage, you're completely out of your mind."   
He leaned in and kissed Illya's tempting lips, pulling away much later and with great reluctance. He let his hands wander through his partner's long hair, enjoying the smooth texture. He lightly trailed a finger over Illya's lips and was nearly bitten.   
"Naughty Illya."   
Napoleon slid his hands around Illya's trim waist. He teased his thumbs over the skin exposed between the bottom of Illya's sweater and the top of his trousers. He was rewarded with a squirm and a throaty sigh.   
"Napoleon... if you tickle meÉ"   
"You'll enjoy it like you always do."   
  
*****   
  
Crane sputtered and shifted a bit of wall from his chest. The body of his device was ruined. He let out a frustrated howl and slammed his fist against the ground. He jumped at the crunch of footsteps behind him. Otto loomed out of the pink smoke.   
"Are you okay?"   
"Shut up," Crane snarled, but he relaxed somewhat on seeing Otto's face.   
Otto dusted plaster debris from Crane's curls and helped him up. He waved a packet in front of Crane's nose and beamed. Crane snatched the papers and rifled through them. He recognized all his notes and drawings for the machine. He smiled brightly at a stunned Otto, then dragged him into the night to make their escape.   
  
*****   
  
Napoleon's lips took over for his fingers. They skimmed over the coarse hair near Illya's navel, then began to suck on the soft belly skin.   
"Napoleon, we should get out of here."   
"Why? Everything is broken up and Section Three is on the way to clear things up."   
"Well, I for one have no wish to put on a show for our colleagues. I know your sense of modesty is quite different than mine, but perhaps you could indulge me just this once."   
"It'll take them a bit to get in here. You know you always make your bombs with too much explosive."   
Illya chuckled. "Better too much than too little, my friend." The sight of Napoleon on his knees, chewing on his stomach, made him hard.   
"Does that philosophy apply to everything?"   
Illya sighed lushly as Napoleon undid his trousers. They slithered down his thighs. Napoleon's hands and mouth were hot against his skin. "Of course."   
"Good."   
Napoleon shifted his partner's delightful white underpants and revealed the object of his desire. He greeted its eager bobbing with several long swipes of his tongue.   
"Beautiful," Illya growled.   
Napoleon didn't stop to reply. His tongue flicked in little butterfly motions up and down the length of his partner's throbbing cock. He stilled Illya's squirming by forcefully grabbing his hips and pressing him tightly against the wall. His tongue teased around Illya's balls until the rough groaning above him got too loud. Mindful of the approaching rescue team, Napoleon kissed his way to the weeping head of Illya's cock. He kissed the tip, then sucked the generous length into his mouth. He alternated between hard, soft and quick flicks of the tongue until he was rewarded with a strangled shout and bursts of bitter liquid. He looked up the length of his trapped partner and grinned. Illya hung slack and panting. One blue eye managed to force itself open and stare back.   
"Napoleon, let me down. Please."   
Napoleon roused himself slowly, kissing Illya's hipbone before tucking him away and straightening his clothes. He slid his hands up the dangling blond's torso before kissing him soundly. "Your wish, moy droog."   
It took only a bit of maneuvering to get Illya released. He collapsed bonelessly into Napoleon's waiting arms. They kissed again, lightly this time. Their private moment was interrupted by a heavy pounding on the door.   
"Anyone in there? Mr. Solo?"   
The two men smiled briefly at each other, then separated, returning to their usual business-like personae.   
"I just wanted to tell you, Napoleon, you can expect my revenge as soon as we return to your apartment." His voice was tart, but mischief danced in his eyes.   
"I await your pleasure, Illya." Napoleon winked jauntily at his partner, brushed the dirt from his knees and greeted the incoming Section Three crew. 

**Author's Note:**

> Crane and his sidekick are actually two other lads I write about but with different names.


End file.
